


Push

by notjustmom



Series: Epiphany [9]
Category: Sherlock (TV), Sherlock Holmes & Related Fandoms
Genre: ALL THE FLUFF, Fluff...nothing but fluff, M/M, Pregnancy, no major angst this go round, rating escalated quickly
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-06-17
Updated: 2016-06-28
Packaged: 2018-07-15 15:41:50
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 16
Words: 11,101
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7228618
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/notjustmom/pseuds/notjustmom
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Continuing story of the Epiphany crew...two years later</p><p>push: verb: po͝oSH: exert force on (someone or something), typically with one's hand, in order to move them away from oneself or the origin of the force.</p><p>a vigorous effort to do or obtain something.</p><p>Middle English (as a verb): from Old French pousser, from Latin pulsare ‘to push, beat, pulse’. The early sense was ‘exert force on,’ giving rise later to ‘make a strenuous effort, endeavor.’</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

"You're pregnant." Sherlock didn't look up from the specimen he was working on as Molly walked into the lab that morning.

After a long moment, Sherlock stopped and blinked at her. "How do - how did, I just did the test this morning, I haven't even told Greg yet." Molly whispered.

He stood and opened his arms to her, she walked to him and he held her gently. He rested his chin on her head and took a deep breath and slowly blew it out again.

"Item one: You've started sobbing over every case that comes in, I can tell because you carry handkerchiefs in your bag because the morgue is out of Kleenex and you have to wait til the request goes through before you can get more in."

"I started crying at 'those' commercials a week ago...it's awful..."

"Item two: Yesterday, you took a sip of your coffee, the coffee you drink every morning and have for the last ten years, made a face, then dumped it out. Yesterday, you thought it was just that the barista didn't add enough sugar, but now -."

"Everything tastes off, and I'm craving fish and chips."

"You loathe fish and chips."

"I know."

"Item three: Two days ago you were a decidedly unlovely shade of green while you worked on that case they pulled from the Thames. I've never seen any case make you run to the loo."

"The smell...I had to take two showers when I got home before I could breathe properly."

Sherlock smiled softly at her.

"Item Four?" She grinned back.

"Item four: I've never seen you glow the way you do today. You are going to be an amazing mum, Molly Lestrade."

 

Greg walked in just then drinking a coffee. Molly looked at him, then at the coffee, put her hand over her mouth and bolted for the loo. Greg looked at the coffee, then at Sherlock and where Molly had just been standing. He dropped the coffee.


	2. Eight Weeks

Greg groaned and hit his head against his desk as he turned off his phone.

 

Can you go with Molly to her appointment? - GL

Gavin, you can't be serious. - SH

I have to meet with the Commissioner, I can't say no. - GL

Can't Molly reschedule it so you can be with her? - SH

It's the eighth week... - GL

Oh. OH NO... - SH

Yeah. - GL

Yeah, I'll do it. I'll get you a recording if they can do it? - SH

Tell her... - GL

I know, you're sorry. - SH

Just get her some pickles on your way home, extra garlic. - SH

Pickles? How cliche can you get? - GL

Hey, just telling you what will get you out of the doghouse. - SH

Thanks, mate - when did it start? - GL

Hmmm - yesterday morning - SH

Morning? - GL

Yeah... - SH

 

Sherlock held Molly's hand as her doctor used the stethoscope against her very slight bump. 

"Yes, very strong, very healthy heart beat."

Molly let her breath go slowly and Sherlock squeezed her hand. He knew she had worried herself into knots the last three weeks, and breathed a sigh of relief with her.

"Now, I'll get the technician so you can see and hear your baby, okay?"

Molly nodded and the doctor left.

"You know he'd be here if he could, he feels terrible." 

"I know. I know he's disappointed, too. He was so excited this morning that he was going to hear the heartbeat..."

The technician entered then, and explained the procedure. Molly and Sherlock winked at each other. Ever since they knew, they had been reading up on everything baby...already learning all of the hot-button parenting issues, all of the 'what to expect...' gobbledy-gook that was out there...they knew 'everything.' They were only half-way listening when she said, "There, can you hear it?"

Molly's eyes popped open and Sherlock's jaw dropped. Then she pointed to the monitor. "He or she - not much bigger than a pea..."

"Molly."

Molly nodded.

"You have a tiny person, a tiny life, a mini-you and Greg inside there - "

"I know," she whispered. She grinned up at his beaming face.

"Can we get a recording of the heartbeat, and an image of this for the dad-to-be?"

"You're not - ?"

"No, he couldn't get away."

"Of course, be right back with that for you."

 

"It was brilliant, John."

John grinned as he held Sherlock in bed that night.

"To know she's going to have a baby is one thing, but to hear it and see it? Even a weird teeny-weeny blob of a critter, was just brilliant."

"It's too bad Greg couldn't be there. "

"We made him a little video he can share with everyone over and over and over again."

"Oh, no."

"Oh, yes."

 

"Close your eyes."

"Why?"

"Just please?"

"Okay, okay -" Greg sighed and closed his eyes. Molly played the video she and Sherlock had put together for him, just the heart beat and a tiny clip of the ultrasound image, on a two minute loop

"Oh." Greg's eyes sprang open. "That's our -?"

Molly nodded.

"Our baby?"

She smiled so hard at him that her face hurt.

"Our baby, barely half an inch long," she put his hand on her abdomen. "He or she is growing right now."

"I love you." Greg kissed her forehead, then the tip of her nose, then her lips. "I never thought - I always knew how much I wanted this for you. We've been trying so long...I never wanted you to know how much I wanted this too - for us."

"I knew. I've always known, lovey." Molly touched his face gently. "I know you, love."

Greg laid his head on her stomach, and kissed her navel. She ran her fingers through his hair, and sighed as he rubbed tiny circles around her belly button.

"I love you, so much. Both of you."

"We love you too," Molly whispered as she fell asleep; she had been awake worrying for the last couple of nights, and it had finally caught up with her.


	3. Thirteen Weeks

"Love? Are you alright?"

"No." Molly whimpered from the other side of the door.

"I read somewhere that it should get better after the first trimester -"

"They were wrong." She threw open the door and glared up at him, holding a pair of slacks. "But even though I can only keep bananas and plain biscuits down, I can't fit into any of my work clothes. This was my 'fat day' pair and the button just popped." She fell against him and sobbed. Greg held her and kissed her hair which he just noticed had grown softer and thicker than he could remember.

"Come 'ere."

"Where?" She sniffled.

"Here." He led her to their full length mirror, and he removed her shirt. Then spun her so she could see herself. "Look, Molly. Just look, love."

Molly saw a woman about to turn 40 in a few short months. She narrowed her eyes at the occasional grey hair, but then saw that she had lost her sharp edges. At some point recently, her hips had become hips, and her breasts, they were beautiful. She was becoming beautiful. "When did I, when did that happen?" She wondered aloud.

"You've always been gorgeous, love." Greg ran his fingers over her gently, until they settled on her belly. He kissed her neck and felt her relax into him. She sighed as he picked her up in his arms, and carried her to bed.

"You'll be late."

"I just took a sick day."

She giggled and reached up to remove his tie; he straddled her and kissed her nose, then nuzzled her neck, and laid his head between her breasts. "Molly....I've had dreams of you...holding our child...and you look up at me, with such...."

"Love?"

Greg nodded. 

"I know, I've had those dreams too." Molly closed her eyes and felt Greg move from the bed. She heard him remove his tie, his shirt and vest. She opened her eyes and whispered, "allow me?" He looked down at her, eyes blown, lips parted and it was almost more than she could take. She moved to the edge of the bed and began to work on undoing his trousers. She felt him shiver beneath her hands, and she suddenly recalled the first time they made love after he was home from hospital, and had been given the official 'okay' to have 'relations' again. She had laughed at the word, then saw the look in his eyes; he was afraid, but wanted, needed her. Needed her, of all people on the planet...

"Molly? Sweetie? Why are you crying?"

"Hmmm? Damn. I didn't mean to - "

"Where did you go?"

"That afternoon - you had just started back at work, but you flew into the morgue with the most beautiful yellow roses, and you asked me to take the rest of the day off. You were a bit nerv-"

"I was petrified that you would treat me as if I were broken, that you didn't see me in the same way, wouldn't want me in the same way as before...but you took me apart, bit by bit, then you straddled me, and without saying a word, guided yourself on top of me, took me inside you in a way that told me you understood, and you - love, you gave me everything that afternoon; you told me I was alive, that I was whole again, that you loved me over and over until I was yelling your name as I came inside you -"

Molly grinned down at him mischievously as he opened his eyes and found her once again guiding him into her; he gasped as he watched her changing form connect fully with him. He found her hands, laced their fingers together and gazed into her eyes as she rode him, slowly at first, but then she grinned 'that' grin and it took his breath away to see her eyes roll back as she almost managed to convince him that there was indeed a heaven, complete with angels...

"Hey there, sleepyhead." She had showered and changed. "I found an old pair of sweats at the back of the drawer, took the rest of the day off."

Greg raised an eyebrow at her.

"Sherlock has been researching maternity shops..."

 

He laughed and shook his head. He knew that if he could, Sherlock would do the pregnancy for her, so she didn't have to go through the discomfort and pain. He had stood by them and encouraged them as they had almost given up hope of getting pregnant, even inviting Greg out to the local for a 'pep talk' one evening when John and Molly were working late.

"I just don't think it will happen," Greg had muttered to the bottom of his empty pint glass.

"John and I had an idea." Sherlock hesitantly slid over a large file folder, labeled "NYC."

Greg narrowed his eyes at the detective. "What did you do now?"

Sherlock shrugged. "You two never had a real honeymoon, I had done all the research already, just updated the old data from two years ago; you know the old saying: 'Strange beds...' "

Greg laughed in spite of himself.

Sherlock looked at him and bit his lip. "She wants this so much, more than she can tell you, more than she tells me, but I know, every time she sees a mum pushing a pram when we walk at lunch, she gets a look..."

Greg nodded. "I know the look..."

"You two have done nothing but work since even before the wedding; it's been two years, you haven't had a break, maybe it's just stress - whatever it is, you need to - "

"Stop. Thank you. Uhm, I also never have never properly thanked you for when -"

"Please, don't. You make her happy, that's all I ever wanted for her..." Sherlock looked at their empty glasses and Greg shook his head.

"I know - when I was under for those two weeks, she told me stories about the two of you when you were growing up; she thinks I couldn't hear her, but I could, I heard every word. So, thank you for being her friend."

"I hope you know I consider you a friend as well, George." Sherlock's eyes twinkled at him. "You leave in a few hours..."

"No, they didn't - " Greg's jaw slammed shut.

Sherlock looked at his watch. "They've been packing for a few hours now, John should be home by now -"

Sherlock held out his hand, and Greg took it. They looked at each other and Greg came to the realisation that Sherlock had become the brother he never had. Over the years, the great man he had first known as an out of control brilliant teenager, had become a kind and good one. No - John had been right; he always had been.

 

"Have fun, love. I'm staying in bed, may still be here when you get back."

Molly kissed him and her eyes glittered at him."I hope so."

"You are beautiful, Molly Lestrade."

"I love you." She paused before she left the room and looked back at him. "Thank you."

"What for?"

"For everything, you have given me everything, and you have no idea how you make me feel when you look at me like that."

"Like what?"

"Like I'm the most precious thing in the world."

"You are."


	4. Twenty Weeks

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Blue or Pink?

If Greg were honest, he had always dreamed of having a son to play football with, to continue the Lestrade name...but this morning, he looked down at Molly snuggled against his chest, fast asleep for once, and he realised he now had dreams of a little girl in auburn pigtails, with Molly's golden eyes.

 

"Do you have any ideas for names yet, Molls?" They were waiting for the technician to come in and do the 20 week ultrasound. Greg had taken the day off weeks ago, so he wouldn't miss seeing...

"Her name is Rebecca." Molly stated quietly.

Greg and Molly looked at each other as the technician came in.

"So, you've decided you want to know the sex, yes?"

They both nodded, still unable to speak. She apologised for the coldness of the gel before she drizzled it over Molly's abdomen. Molly flinched and closed her eyes. She felt Greg's hand tighten around hers.

"Molly - look, love."

She opened her eyes to look at the grey image on the screen. She saw five perfect fingers wiggling at her, the other hand was covering her mouth, like she was laughing. 

"She's perfect," smiled the technician.

"Just like her mum." Greg had tears rolling down his face, but for the first time in months, Molly felt at peace. She smiled as she placed her hands over the little girl who was gently kicking her. 

"Hi Rebecca Charlotte. I'm your mum, and this is your papa, and we can't wait to meet you, little girl."

 

Sherlock and John had just come in from a six that had started as a two, and had collapsed in a pile on the couch, when Molly and Greg knocked on the door.

"Hey, Moll - what's wron - ?" Sherlock stopped.

Molly beamed at him and he managed to jump up and hug her. 

"Her name is Rebecca Charlotte."

Sherlock blinked at her. "You're naming her after the hat lady? I love Charlotte, but - "

Molly rolled her eyes at him and touched his face. "No, you idiot, I'm naming her after her Uncle Sherlock."

Sherlock fell to his knees and looked up at Molly. She grinned and nodded.

"Hi Becca, I'm your Uncle Sherlock. You are going to love your mum and your papa, but I get to be that crazy uncle who spoils you rotten. Oh! Molly - I just felt her."

Molly was aware that she was smiling like a crazy person, but she couldn't stop. "Isn't it amazing?" She looked at him again and saw a tear travel along his sharp lines; she helped him up and pulled him into a strong embrace. "Without you, none of this is possible," she whispered. She held on to him as he wept silently in her arms.


	5. Twenty Weeks Earlier....

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Molly and Greg see NYC....kinda...and okay, a bit of angst, but not major angst...

They had tickets to plays, musicals, were scheduled to see exhibits at MOMA...they had wanted to visit the Statue of Liberty and walk in Central Park...really they had wanted to do all of those touristy things....

They spent the first two days sleeping. Really, just sleeping...okay, cuddly sleeping, but still sleeping. 

On the third day and onward, they ordered room service and movies and made out like teenagers. Molly wondered why she had bothered packing any clothes at all, as whenever she managed to put a shirt on, Greg would find a way to get it off of her; finally they just stayed in bed; and left the do not disturb sign on the door. They were sure housekeeping was giggling their arses off every morning when the sign had not moved.

Molly spent the next three days relearning Greg's landmarks, finding new places that she hadn't known before; there had never been enough time, until they had almost run out of time. 

"Molls? What is it, sweetie?" Greg stood behind her on their seventh morning as she looked out over Central Park. She was wearing one of those fluffy white robes because she was shivering, not from the temperature of the room, but because of the nightmare that had made her jump out of bed. She had been searching everywhere for Greg, but couldn't find him, he had simply vanished from her life as if he had never existed.

"Hmm? I'm fine." She felt every muscle tense as he tried to hold her.

"No, you're not. Tell me. Please."

She turned to face him. It had been over two years since she had almost lost him for real, not just in a nightmare. She had lost him for two weeks and she realised she had not yet forgiven him completely for that missing time.

"I don't think you want to know." She couldn't look in his eyes, she didn't want him to see all of the different emotions tearing her apart; she was angry that she could not just appreciate how lucky they were that he had survived and the only evidence of his almost death was a scar and the occasional nightmare, her nightmares mostly...she resented that she had not been able to be the one to watch over him like John had been able to do for Sherlock...yes, John was a doctor and could take Sherlock home, but still. Mycroft had swept in and taken over, she could sit with Greg as much as she wanted, but there were always his 'people' there, but 'not there'...they never spoke to her, but their very presence encroached on her time with him...she had known and understood the need...

"Molly, please?"

"I want those two weeks back." 

She watched his face, and wasn't surprised that he was not shocked. He didn't have to ask what two weeks she meant. He didn't speak right away; he simply nodded and walked to the window. She wanted to touch him, take it back, take the words back, but they were out and now they finally had to deal with it.

"There are nights...okay, most nights, if I'm being honest...I'm afraid to go to sleep...I'm afraid that I won't be able to wake up again and I'll be stuck there again. When I was under, I know this will sound weird and off, but I could hear you, every word, but I couldn't feel you. I kept trying to get to you, but it was like I was in quicksand, if I tried to move I just got stuck more, so I stopped trying. That's why I touch you more, ever since they brought me back - I think you may have noticed. When we go for a walk, I grab your hand; when we sit together, I want to touch as much of you as I can." He took a deep breath and blew it out again. "I'm glad I did it, only because it helped me heal faster, but you don't know how much I regret losing that time with you. I could sense how scared and lonely you were; Sherlock and Donovan helped a lot, they did what they could. But, I finally understood, finally realised that what you and Sherlock have is based on history, friendship and love in a family sense; what you and I share is different. If I believed in that soul mate stuff...I know that you were missing part of yourself when you couldn't communicate with me, when you couldn't feel me near you in that way that we both need."

She walked slowly over to him and cautiously reached out for his hand. She closed her eyes and waited until she felt his fingers brush her own, then grab on, tightly. They stood there as they watched the city wake up, busy and frenetic like London, but inside out and backwards. Finally after what felt like hours, Molly let go of his hand and walked behind him. She wrapped her arms around him and undid his robe, letting it fall to the floor, then she dropped her own and pressed her whole body against him, letting him feel everything she felt, every shiver, every tear, as she finally forgave both him, and herself. Mostly, she had needed to forgive herself. She felt him slowly go to his knees and she followed until she was draped over him, covering him as much as her size allowed. 

"I am so sorry, love. I carried this so long and I've hurt you, when I could've just told you. I was afraid."

"Afraid of what, Molls?" He gently managed to roll them on their sides so they could see each other's faces.

"I don't know. I just tried to put it away, like it didn't exist. Do you know what I mean?" She looked into his eyes finally and saw that he did. "Take me to bed, please?"

Greg got up, then offered her his hand, and led her to bed. She laid down and watched as his eyes darkened, his breathing shifted and his body reacted simply from looking at her. He finally got into bed next to her, and starting from the top of her head and ending buried deeply inside her, he made gentle, mind-altering love to her. She watched him as he fell asleep, wrapped around her, and she felt him actually allow himself to drift into a deep sleep for the first time in two years.

 

Thank you - ML

You're welcome. What for, Moll? - SH

For giving us some of the lost time back. - ML

Love you. - SH

Ditto - ML

I'm never going to live that down - SH

NoPe. - ML

:P - SH

See you soon. - ML


	6. Christmas

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Christmas shopping craziness, and mention of Redbeard...

"Sherlock..."

Sherlock was searching for the one perfect Christmas present for Molly. He had already bought enough green, purple and yellow newborn outfits to wallpaper 221 B three times over...

"Sher-LOCK!"

"Just a second, John..."

"Nope." John reached around him and closed the laptop.

"Why did you do tha-?" Sherlock yawned and blinked at his husband.

"Because, love, you've been up for three straight days, shopping."

"No, no I haven't -"

John crossed his arms and nodded.

"Oh. That might explain why my legs fell asleep."

"Uh-huh."

"I just want to find Molly the perfect Christmas present. I don't know what to get her, John."

"Write her a lullaby."

"No...that's...wait, John...that's....brill-ian -t...I'm so tired...I'll start tomorrow."

"Good idea, love." John helped him out of the chair and into their bedroom, helped him undress, then tucked him in. "I love you."

"Love yoouuu too."

 

Hey Moll - JW

Hey yerself, what's up? - ML

Christmas present for Sherlock - he can buy whatever he wants, what should I get him?" - JW

He had a dog he adored when he was a kid. Why don't you and I go out after work tomorrow and see if we can find him a rescue dog? - ML

You're a genius, Molly. Maybe it will distract him from buying every baby outfit known to humankind. - JW

If it helps, I had to lock Greg's laptop away last week. He went crazy...we are buried in pink, frilly things... - ML

Sherlock bought everything but pink - JW

Becca still kicking? - JW

Yeah, and now she is hiccuping...feels so strange - ML

I bet - try to get some rest, love you - JW

Will try - love you too - ML

 

Molly put her feet up and closed her eyes.

 

"Molly!! Red-bea-rd..." Sherlock whimpered as she opened her door.

"Sherlock - what - oh no..."

"He ran out in front of the car, I was holding the leash as tightly as I could, but he saw a squir-" Sherlock collapsed in tears against her.

"I've got you." 

"Why, Molls, why wasn't I strong enough?"

"I dunno, Sherlock, sometimes no matter how hard we try, it isn't enough. You tried as hard as you could. You loved him very much, and he loved you."

"How do you know?" Sherlock sniffled against her.

"He was so happy. I've never seen a happier dog, he loved how well you took care of him."

 

Shit. Maybe he wasn't ready yet. No. It's been thirty years, it's time. We'll just find a dog that looks nothing like Redbeard..."Oh, hey Becca, you agree? Hmmm...let's try to get some sleep, yeah?" Molly turned off the light and placed her hands over where she could feel Becca pushing against her, and fell asleep dreaming of the perfect Christmas present.


	7. Gladstone

Good morning, Myc - ML

Mrs. Lestrade - to what do I owe this honour? - MH

I come asking for a favour - ML

Continue - MH

John and I have adopted a bulldog puppy for Sherlock's Christmas present and we need a place where she can stay for a few days until Christmas. I know you loathe Christmas and everything connected to it - ML

Consider it done - MH

Are you sure? - ML

Do I ever say anything I don't mean? - MH

No. - ML

Send me the details, and the puppy will arrive at two hundred and twenty - one Baker Street Christmas morning. Are we agreed? - MH

Thank you, consider yourself off the hook for the rest of your life, Myc. - ML

Understood. I do hope your pregnancy has been uneventful? - MH

Quite. - ML

I know my brother is deeply moved by your gesture of naming your daughter for him. - MH

He is well-loved. - ML

I am aware. - MH

Good day, Myc. - ML

Mrs. Lestrade. A pleasure as always. - MH

 

It had taken going to three shelters, but at the last one, John and Molly saw her in the last box, and both clapped their hands.

"It's her!"

The puppy that Sherlock would later name Gladstone was smaller than normal and about a year old. It was her face, something in her eyes made them both smile; they saw humour and intelligence there in an otherwise ridiculously adorable face.

John texted Mycroft the details, and as promised, the puppy was installed in Mycroft's rather posh non-dog domain. At first Mycroft had his servants deal with 'the animal', but he had a bit too much of the Holmesian love of dogs in him, though it had laid dormant since the passing of Redbeard. By Christmas Eve, it became clear that he, too, had become rather attached to the puppy.

"Yes....you are quite correct. Putin is -"

"Sherlock, what could you possibly want with me on Christmas Eve?"

"Ah, very well. Yes, I will join you for festivities on the morrow. No, I will not wear the sweater that was sent over - very well. Blackmail does not become you, brother dear. Quite. Yes, 8 am tomorrow. Fine...."

"I will miss you, perhaps I can find excuses to vis - "

"No, no, you misunderstand, he will be a very good companion, I know he will adore you, even spoil you, we just do not agree - hmmm...ah...perhaps....time will tell. However, it is time for bed. Up! There you are - business or sports - gossip? Oh, since it is your last night, it is your choice." Mycroft sighed as he turned to the gossip notes in the paper and read it aloud as the puppy settled in next to him. Soon, they were both fast asleep.

 

"Why did I just invite my brother for Christmas?"

"Tis the season?" John offered.

"And why was he so agreeable? He has hated Christmas with a passion since he learned at 6 that St. Nick was a myth. The story goes that he started wearing suits the day after that particular Christmas and hasn't stopped since....you are up to something John Watson-Holmes."

"I don't have the foggiest idea what you are on about. Now go to bed, it is late, and we will have guests arriving early - "

"Yes, dear." Sherlock groaned as he assumed his place next to his husband and promptly began to snore.

 

Everything is ready for tomorrow - JW

I can't wait to see his face - ML

Me either - JW

Happy Christmas, John - ML

Happy Christmas, Molly - JW


	8. Christmas Morning

The tree was twinkling, fairy lights covered every possible surface, mistletoe dangled from every nook and cranny; Sherlock raised his head and opened one eye when he detected the scent of gingerbread coming up the stairs.

"Mrs. Hudson made gingerbread! John! Get up! There is gingerbread with that lemon curd - oh get up, John!!"

John tried to stifle his laughter, not that it mattered because Sherlock had thrown on his robe and was almost into the kitchen when he skidded to a stop before he plowed into Molly, Greg, Mycroft and a puppy. A small bulldog puppy with a ridiculously smiling face and the brightest eyes Sherlock had ever seen. 

"Moll - there is a puppy in my flat." He sat down on the floor and Mycroft let go of the lead. She seemed to know who she belonged to as she waddled over to Sherlock and presented herself to him.

"Yes. I think she needs a name."

"Ah." He scratched the top of her head as he considered. "Of course - Gladstone."

"Gladstone?"

"She has a bit of the look of old Gladstone, hmmm...Gladys for short? But, why, uhm. Oh. She's mine. You and John..." He narrowed his eyes up at his brother, "...and Mycroft." He glanced at Greg. 

"Nope, had nothing to do with it, I suggested socks."

"You got me a puppy, Molly Lestrade, and she's absolutely perfect. John! Get yer arse out here, so I can kiss that ridiculous smirk from your beautiful face."

He stood up as Mycroft was attempting to make a break for the door. "Please, stay? Mrs. Hudson did go to the trouble of making that gingerbread with the lemon -"

"...curd sauce?" Mycroft's eyes lit up with a twinkle. "Well, I'd hate for it to go to waste, a piece or two can't hurt, yes?"

Sherlock grinned at him. "Thank you, Myc, she's lovely."

Mycroft nodded. "She likes a bit of bacon at tea, and doesn't mind the business section, but prefers the gossipy bits."

John watched from the doorway and found Molly's eyes. They winked at each other and John couldn't help but laugh. Sherlock turned at the sound and strode over to his husband. "You, John Hamish Watson-Holmes, did it again. You are brilliant, and so is she, she's just perfect." At that, Gladstone put her head back and yowled as if thoroughly put out that she was no longer the center of attention. 

 

By the end of the day, they had opened enough baby things to open their own boutique; Molly's favourite ensemble was the 'Molly' - a tiny lab coat, with a onesie that read 'Mum only thinks she's in charge.' "Luckily she won't be able to read before she outgrows it."

Mycroft begged off after brunch, but promised to come visit Gladys when possible. Greg took a happy but exhausted Molly home a little before two in the afternoon.

"I can't wait until next Christmas," Molly beamed at the boys as they kissed her good night. 

 

John was waiting for Sherlock and Gladstone to come back from their last trip around the neighborhood for the night. He sat in his chair and reflected on the day. Molly had never seemed happier, Greg waited on her hand and foot and on more than one occasion had caught them making eyes at each other - 

"We're back! Took her to meet Angelo, and of course she's welcome there anytime; he naturally noticed how intelligent she is right off the bat." Gladys yawned, but waited patiently. "Oh, right, Myc said she needs her bed made up. I'll put her right by the tree."

Gladys seemed to agree with the arrangement and toddled off to bed. Sherlock caught John's hand and brought it to his lips. "You have no idea how incredibly happy you make me, John Watson-Holmes."

John closed his eyes as Sherlock began sliding his robe from his shoulders, finding the sweet spots as he made his way down to his pants, which were quite deftly removed. John shuddered and steadied himself on Sherlock's strong shoulders. "Oh, Sherlock -" John twisted his fingers in his husband's dark curls as Sherlock drove John to the edge of madness with his tongue.

He came with a shout, then collapsed into Sherlock's waiting arms. When John opened his eyes, Sherlock was holding him, smiling down at him with such love that John trembled. He reached a hand up to Sherlock's face and felt him lean into the touch. "Some days, actually, most days, I find myself asking how I got lucky enough to be the man who gets to touch you; kiss you, make love to you. I can't even tell you - "

"Take me to bed and show me, love." Sherlock whispered.

 

Molly got into bed and slid down under the covers next to Greg. "Mmmmm...." He ran his large, gentle hands over her now self-described 'melon' shape and she moaned quietly. "Do you know how beautiful you are, love?"

She shook her head, but smiled. Greg laid his ear against her navel and appeared to be intently listening. "Hmmm...-uhmhmmm..."

"What does she say tonight?"

"Becca agrees with me, she just told me that she has the most beautiful mum in the entire world. Wait, what? Oh, sorry, I was meant to say entire universe, so my dear, I'm afraid you are outvoted."

Molly sighed, as he moved to hold her in his arms; "Thank you, love, for a lovely, amazing day. I love you."

Greg kissed the top of her head then turned off the light. "Happy Christmas, Molly."

"Happy Christmas, love."


	9. Thirty-five Weeks

Molly was done. Completely, utterly done. The worst part wasn't the sleepless nights, or the heartburn, or even the fact that she had last seen her toes back in 2014; the worst bit was the absolute mind-numbing boredom. She had started her leave from the morgue two weeks ago when she finally acknowledged she just couldn't do it anymore. Greg, being Greg knew not to push, but saw the look of disgusted resignation on her face when he arrived to take her home after a shortened shift.

"I can't - " 

"I know, Moll, I know." Greg wrapped his arm around her, and she leaned heavily against his shoulder. "Gladys and the boys are at the flat, making dinner, something simple - "

"The thing with peas?" Molly's face lit up, her latest craving had arrived a week before -

 

Hey - ML

What's up, are you okay? How's Becca? - SH

Damn, it's two am, sorry, just hungry, Greg's been called in - ML

I know, Gladys won't let me even dress for anything less than a six, tonight's a mere three and a half. Anything I can help with? - SH

It's ridiculous, but I want that thing with peas you and John make. - ML

Give me twenty minutes? - SH

I adore you - ML

Ditto - SH

:P - ML

 

Molly and Greg walked into the kitchen to find John stirring the peas in; while Sherlock was crashed on the couch with Gladys snoring at his side. John looked up and saw Molly's face. "Just needs to rest a bit, then you can have at it." He turned the fire down, washed his hands and wrapped Molly in a hug. Molly rested her head on his shoulder and nodded towards the pair sprawled on the couch.

"They've spent the last two days getting the flat baby proofed; he's been finding old experiments in the oddest of places - Gladys will look up at him, almost as if to say, 'really? And the point of that mess was?' Sherlock will try to piece together what he had intended originally, glance back at her, shrug and bin it. The flat has never been cleaner, which is lovely, but I keep reminding them that Becca won't be crawling for months, after she's actually born, and they both roll their eyes at me and go on with the next bit."

Molly laughed and Gladys opened an eye at her, then rolled back into Sherlock's side. He wrapped his arms around her and snuffled in his sleep.

"Not a single nightmare when they nap together," John sighed. "Wish I was as helpful, if he goes days without sleep, the dreams catch up to him when he tries to rest."

"Yours?"

"Getting better, only when I'm trying to do too much..."

"Which is -"

"A lot of the time." John admitted. "I'm going to quit the clinic. We don't need the money and I'd rather be at home with him."

"Does he know?"

"Going to tell him tonight."

"Tell me what?" Sherlock grumbled from the depth of the couch.

"I'm putting in my notice."

"Really?"

"Yes, I want to spend more time with you and Gladys and be around for Becca."

Molly went to the stove and gave the risotto a stir. "Dinner's ready. I don't know what you guys are eating, though....this is all mine."


	10. Thirty-six Weeks

It wasn't until she went on leave at thirty-three weeks that Molly realised she hadn't done a single thing about the nursery, she hadn't even opened the door yet. The first day of the thirty-sixth week started dark and early since it was the first week of February and two in the morning; she yawned, put on the kettle for tea, since she knew she was up for the day and went to see the work that laid ahead. She needed to paint, pick out a cot...

She opened the door, switched on the light and found a brightly painted room, a soft, warm yellow (of course), a wooden cradle, she assumed it was a heirloom, as it had that heirloomy look about it, and a recliner in dark purple, almost the shade of Donovan's dress. She sat down in the chair, and put up the foot rest. He knew her so well. There was an empty bookcase that matched the cradle within arms reach of the recliner with a note attached.

 

24.November.2015

Moll-

I know doing up this room wouldn't have crossed your mind until you could barely move, so John and I took the chance to do it for you. We left the bookcase empty so you could decide on what books we will read to Becca, I was thinking a bit of Tolkien, Carroll, and Lewis alongside a smattering of Silverstein and Carle of course...eventually she'll need some forensic and chemistry tomes, but those can wait, I suppose.

And yes, the cradle and bookcase are from my family's home, Mycroft put things in storage after our parents passed, he was more than happy to give them over to your safe keeping, as neither of us will ever need them.

I know you are probably sitting there, with your feet propped up, sometime in February, when you suddenly remembered that Becca will need a place to sleep, and you finally got the nerve to open the door. I know you are slowly adjusting to the idea that you will soon be someone's (in this case, Becca's) mum, and are beginning to wonder how on earth you will know what to do when she is here. You will be brilliant, Molly Lestrade, you are one of the most generous, caring, loving people I know. And you will not be alone, you have people who love you more than anything, and we will love your Becca. We already do.

Much love,  
S

 

How well he knew her indeed. She had even considered buying all of those parenting books she saw on Amazon when she did a search for 'parenting for dummies,' too early one morning a week ago, but there were so many, that she turned away from the computer and took a nap. 

She took a deep breath, and closed her eyes. She was on the edge of sleep when she heard the kettle scream.

Damn.

She was about to get up when she heard Greg get up and turn it off. "Moll?"

"In here."

He put his head in, opened his mouth to say something, then shut it again.

"Yeah, I know."

He walked in and looked around. He nodded and shrugged. "He knows you so well. It's what you would have wanted, if you had done it yourself. You will be fine, we will be fine. We can do this, yeah?" He helped her out of the chair and held her in his arms. "We can do this, love, come back to bed with me?"

He helped her into bed, then snuggled around her. Becca was no longer moving as much, as she was running out of room, and at the latest appointment two days ago, she was headed the right way to make her grand entrance into the world. 

Molly covered Greg's hands with her own, and somehow managed to fall asleep, a little less worried than she had been an hour ago.

 

A few hours later:

Thank you, it's beautiful - ML

I went ahead and ordered a few books for the shelves, should be getting there later today - SH

I hope you know... - ML

Yeah, me too - SH

Lunch later today? - ML

Of course. Noonish?- SH


	11. Thirty-eight and a half Weeks

"Sorry. I'm so sorry."

"NoPe."

"It's 4 am, you guys were all out on a case. There were sirens!"

"Moll - none of us have done this before, you thought it was time. Where else would you expect us to be? Donovan took over the scene, it was fine."

"I'm so embarrassed."

"You shouldn't be, love, they did say you were having real contractions, it's just not time yet, she's not ready."

"I thought -"

Sherlock sighed and held her tighter against him, they were at Barts, waiting for Greg to come back from signing the discharge papers. Molly was curled up in Sherlock's arms in the recovery bed, tears streaming down her face. "It just -"

"I know. She's coming soon, sweetie, and you will not be alone, I promise."

 

Greg watched from the door and shook his head. "He is able to get through to her, be with her in ways I can't, John. I wish I could -"

John looked at him, then at Sherlock and Molly. "I couldn't get near him when he came back, he let me treat his injuries, barely, but nothing else. But with her? After she came back with me that first time, when he asked for her - he could only sleep if she was with him, in her arms. I was dealing, or not dealing with all the emotions that came from him coming home, she was just able to be there for him, she could offer him her strength without the baggage. Once I understood that he needed that uncomplicated love that comes from family, I let go of that slight jealous twinge. No, I know. I know - they share a past and it's hard to live up to that. Thing is, you don't have to. They make each other better...no, that's not right. Without each other, they couldn't trust that we love them. Does that make sense? They needed to be able to love and be loved by another before they could love and be loved by us. Most of the time that's the job of a parent, in their case, it was a best friend, they gave one another that, and when they are in pain or unsure, they need each other to remind them they are lovable."

Greg nodded as he watched Sherlock lift Molly from the bed and place her reverently, yes, that was the word, into the wheelchair. He kissed the top of her head gently and knelt next to her.

 

"You and Becca are fine, Molls, just a few more days, okay?" Sherlock offered her a smile and wiped her tears away.

"Will you stay with me, please?"

"If Greg doesn't mind, you know you don't even have to ask. But he wants to be there for you more than anything. Let him be there for you - I hurt John badly when I reached out for you first, when I came back. I know he understands now, but it was hard on him, don't do that to Greg, yeah? I'll always be there, even when I'm not, do you know what I mean?"

She nodded and bit her lip.

"He wants to be the one you lean on, as hard as it is to let him see you less than who you think you need to be, he wants it all, love. I think you know that, you just have to trust him. Yeah?"

He touched Molly's face and looked into her eyes, letting her know they were okay. After a moment, she nodded, attempted a smile and cleared her throat.

"Yeah. Can you ask him in? You guys can take off, we'll be okay -"

"Sure?"

"Yeah. Love you."

"Ditto."

"Berk."

"I know, but you love me anyway."

"Course I do."

 

"Greg - she's ready to go, we're off. John needs his beauty sleep; he's an absolute bear unless he gets at least four hours."

Greg nodded and took Sherlock's hand in his. "Thank you. I know -"

Sherlock shook his head. "If you, if she, needs anything, you know where I am, where we are. Actually Gladys is going to be royally annoyed that we aren't where we are supposed to be - she does rounds, everyone needs to be where we -"

"Thanks, anyway - "

"She's waiting, she's a little fragile and feels foolish, just let her talk, or whatever she needs -"

"Will do."

Sherlock let John wrap his arm around his waist and walk them to the exit. Greg watched as Sherlock leaned against John as they disappeared around the corner and he sighed. He walked into Molly's room and caught her trying not to cry.

"It's okay, love."

Molly shook her head. "I'm sorry. I'm supposed to be stronger than this."

"Why?"

Molly looked up at him finally and whispered, "I've always had to be stronger, it's how I got through, and I don't know how to let you take care of me the way I should. It's different with Sherlock, he knows, he's always known how to -"

"Let me try? I think you'll find that I'm a pretty quick learner." He smiled at her and she nodded. "Let's get you home, yeah?"

"Please? Wait, though."

"Hmm?"

"Come closer?"

He bent over her and she pulled him into a kiss, then whispered, "I love you, so much, thank you for loving me back."

"Always, love. Always."

"Home?"

"Home."


	12. Forty Weeks part one

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> yep, a two-parter, and yes, I'm giving John the ability to drive in this series, so Greg doesn't have to drive them to hospital.

She took her time arriving, of course she did. Thirty-nine weeks passed, and a day later Sherlock and John moved to the pullout couch at Molly and Greg's, while Gladys had a bit of pampering at Mycroft's. 

Molly tried spicy Thai food, as it was supposed to help...lemon tea with ginger...the boys took her to Regent's Park and they walked with her until they were all exhausted. Becca had her own timetable. The doctor sighed and shook her head. "She's your first, Dr. Lestrade, it's perfectly normal, try not to worry, we won't let you go too long after forty -"

"Great. Normal..."

When the contractions began, she was actually relaxed, reading The Lion, the Witch and the Wardrobe aloud to Becca, feet up, a cup of tea in her hand. The boys were out picking up a bite for lunch.

"Oh! Hullo, there, lovey." She sighed, wondering if it was yet another false alarm; ten minutes later, a stronger one hit, and she put her tea down. "Come on, sweet girl, tell me it's really time, please?" She laid back down and a few minutes later breathed through another before she sent a text.

 

Ten minutes apart - ML

Be home ASAP I love you - GL

On our way back - SH

 

Molly got up slowly from the recliner and slipped on her shoes, grabbed the book and texted her doctor to meet them at Barts. She collected her bag and a bottle of water, when another contraction hit that nearly took her to her knees. "Damn...this is gonna suck, isn't it, sweet girl..." She leaned against the back of the couch and tried to think of something besides what was happening at the moment. You can do this...this is a normal thing, people do this everrrrrrr - FUCK - y - ING day...right...? She thought of her wedding day...yes, good. Wedding. Perfect day. Blue skies, Sherlock had only been rude a few times, had even been mostly tolerant of Mycroft...then as the procession music started the winds picked up. Donovan's hat had been pinned to her head within an inch of her life, otherwise, it would have become leading news...unidentified flying purple disk seen in the skies above...breathe...door, there's the door...

Sherlock held her up as she yelled into his shoulder. John almost blushed as he heard words that he had only heard on his tour of duty, never from Molly at least not alphabetised and with such passion in her voice.

"Breathe, love - breathe, Greg's downstairs, has the lights going and everything, ready?"

Molly shook her head, she felt another building and didn't want to deal with it sitting down. "Just hold on to....godddddddammmmmnnnnittttt....'kay, let's go...my bag...John has it..."

John sat in the front next to Greg, then saw his hands shake and told him quietly but firmly to get out of the driver's seat. Greg nodded and they traded places. Sherlock held Molly's head in his lap, telling her about her wedding day.

"I was waiting for Donovan's hat to start the second War of the Worlds, but somehow it stayed on her head through the ceremony. I think she was still finding pins in her hair a week later...you, you were dazzling, I already knew what your dress looked like and that delirious hat, but you still took my breath away, and Greg? I think his brain went offline...try to listen to my voice, hold on to my hand, no, it's fine, love - I have two of them, that's it, breathe, remember you get to meet Becca soon. You can do this, sweetie - words? Oh, Greg's vows...sure love..."

"Molly Hooper, I knew from the first day when I met you in the morgue; I think it was a four at the most you were working on...I knew that I loved you, and I don't believe in that kinda thing..."

"Ohhhhhhhhhhhhhellllllllllllnooo....."

"Almost there, love, John's pulling up, do you want to walk?"

Molly nodded, and Sherlock got out, then helped her carefully out of the back seat. "You got this, love, piece of cake."

She looked into his eyes and managed to smile, as she remembered the last time he said that to her; right before he left for two long, hard years.

 

"I have to do this, Molly, wish I didn't, you, of all people know I don't want to do this, but I have to keep everyone safe and this is the only way I know how...piece of cake, right?" She had nodded and smiled for him then; she saved the tears and throwing of coffee mugs for after he was already on that private jet that would take him....

 

"FUCKKKKKKKKKK -"

Her doctor was waiting for them, Molly waved off the wheelchair and Sherlock held onto her, stopping every few moments to rest, or breathe through another hard contraction. "Almost to the room, love. John and I will be right outside the door, Greg is right here, forms are all filled out, he's here, Moll - look at me, yeah, there you are. Just a bit longer, then you get to meet your Becca, your beautiful little girl. I'll be right here, Greg will come get me if you need me, but you can do this. You got this, Molly. Love you."

She nodded and kissed him on the forehead. "Ditto."

 

"Seven centimeters, almost there, Dr. Lestrade. I'll be back in a few minutes to check again, you are doing great."

Molly blew the hair out of her face and looked at Greg. She reached for his hand and kissed it. 

"I know, Molls, I know."

"Read to me? Please?" She grasped his hand tighter as another long contraction hit. 

"Breathe, love, I'm here, I have you -"

"Please?"

"“Logic!" said the Professor half to himself. "Why don't they teach logic at these schools? There are only three possibilities. Either your sister is telling lies, or she is mad, or she is  
telling the truth. You know she doesn't tell lies and it is obvious that she is not mad. For the moment then and unless any further evidence turns up, we must assume that she is telling the truth..."*

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> * from The Lion, the Witch and the Wardrobe, by C.S. Lewis


	13. Forty Weeks part two

Sherlock paced for two hours. John watched Sherlock pace and suggested they get some coffee.

"Hmmm?"

"Coffee."

"Terrible here, you know that."

"No, I was thinking we could go across the stree-"

"I'm not leaving her. I need to know she's okay."

"Greg has our numbers, he'll text us."

"I can't leave, John. Not til I know she and Becca are okay."

"It could take some time, Becca is her -"

"-her first, I know, I know. I can't leave. If you want to get some, it's fine, but I can't -"

John held Sherlock's face in his hands and gently kissed his forehead; he felt Sherlock's breathing calm slightly. "Do you want some coffee, if I go and get some?"

"Please?" 

John nodded and smiled at him. "Back soon, yeah? Let me know if something happens?"

Sherlock nodded gratefully at his husband then went back to pacing.

 

Ten minutes later, Greg came out, looking like he had been through the wars. He slumped down next to Sherlock and leaned against his shoulder. "She's stuck at 9, she's so tired, and she's giving up. She hasn't asked, but, please, she needs you, don't let her give up?" Sherlock nodded, stood and squeezed Greg's shoulder. "I won't, I promise. They will be fine."

"Hey, love." Sherlock mentally shook himself as he saw Molly in tears, frustrated and just done in a way he never had seen before. He sat next to her, and took her hand. "Talk to me, Molls. Do you want to get up and walk? Tell me what you want, and we'll do it."

"I don't think I can do this Sherl' - I'm not strong enough."

He blinked as she used his nickname from their childhood, she only called him that when she had given up, when something was too much for her. "Uh-uh, love. No, Molls. Look at me. No, at me, sweetie. This isn't an exam, or a bully, this is Becca, you are not going to give up. If you want to walk a bit, I'll help you up and hold you up, but you will not give up right now, Molly Elizabeth Hooper Lestrade."

Molly eyes popped open and she saw him clearly; he was exhausted and worried, but the love he had for her was shining through his eyes. She nodded and he helped her to her feet, then let her fall into him as another contraction hit. It took her breath away, the pain made her eyes roll and she yelled into his shoulder; but she felt things had changed, and asked him quietly, "I think that did it, it feels like it's time?" He helped her get back in the bed and started for the door.

"I'll get Greg - "

"Stay?"

He nodded as she pushed the button and her nurse came in followed by Greg. The nurse checked her and grinned, "There you go, knew you could do it. Now, Molly, we are going to set up the table so we can get Miss Becca born, right?" Molly bit her lip and stared into Sherlock's eyes. His eyes met hers and she took a deep breath and blew it out. "It's time."

Greg held her right hand, Sherlock was on her left as she screamed her way through three long pushes to bring a screaming, 9 pound, 21 inch long Rebecca Charlotte Hooper Lestrade into the world. The nurse placed her on Molly's chest as they began cleaning both of them up. She had a head full of fuzzy hair, ten fingers, ten toes...eventually they took Becca back to the nursery, and she had a moment to breathe. Greg had gone with Becca and Sherlock had stayed next to her; he hadn't let go of her hand since the moment he had grabbed it after he walked in half an hour ago. She was afraid to meet his eyes. 

"I'm so proud of you, Moll -" he whispered.

She shook her head.

"You are amazing and beautiful and strong; she is the most perfect person I've ever seen. She has her mum's powerful lungs, and her papa is already in love with her. His face when they handed her to him, bliss is not too strong a word, sweetie."

"But -"

"No - you just needed someone to remind you of who you are; you just needed a bit of a push, love. We have spent our lives pushing one another when we didn't think we could go any further. When I needed to get on with things, after I got back, you kicked my arse. What did you say to me..."

" 'Listen to me, you arse. You've been 'dead' for two years to him, and now you won't even let him hold you as you sleep? He needs that, as much as you do. Stop hating yourself and let him forgive you. He's never stopped loving you. So let him, damn it.' - I'm sorry, God - Sherlock."

"No, you were exactly right, it still took a long time for me to get it right, but without you, my life with John couldn't right itself. And when I got hurt, you were always there for both of us - you are - I don't even have the words for you; remarkable, brilliant..."

"Okay, okay. I must look a mess." She giggled as he made eyes at her hair.

"No, love, you are perfect."

Greg came in a minute later, holding a tightly wrapped Becca in her arms, a little hand knit yellow hat sitting atop her head. The three of them took a deep breath in as she opened her eyes for the first time and blinked at them. Sherlock sighed as he noticed the warm amber colour that matched her mum's perfectly. "Oh, Moll - I uhm, have to go - John -"

"He's waiting outside for you. Thank you - for -" Greg looked down at Becca, then at Molly as she took her into her arms.

"My pleasure, you know where we are when you need us." Sherlock kissed Molly's head and wriggled his fingers at Becca. He was sure that she smirked at him as he left the room.


	14. First Night - Molly

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I'm going for fluff in this section, so I'm going ultra fluffy on the recovery for Molly, Greg and Becca. If you are looking for realism, or 'what to expect'...wrong story. I've been a mom for over twelve years and I'm still in recovery.

Molly sighed as she watched Greg walk with Becca, sound asleep on his shoulder. He hadn't stopped smiling since she had arrived five hours earlier. 

"She's perfect, sweetie; she has your eyes and your beautiful mouth, the longest fingers..."

She had fed her twice, luckily her milk had come in, and Becca somehow knew what she was doing already. They had given her some pretty intense painkillers, so was feeling no pain, but knew it was coming. She had torn a bit; hadn't had time for an epidural...but she glimpsed Greg's face again, Sherlock had been right, bliss was not too strong a word. How much she loved him at that moment, she couldn't begin to tell him. He glanced at her then and her heart broke wide open, the light aimed in her direction took her breath away. She blinked back tears of exhaustion, emptiness and sheer, utterly hopeless love for both of them.

"Molls? What is it, love?"

She shook her head, unable to tell him anything that made sense. He bent down and kissed her, and she realised he understood. He leaned his forehead against hers for a moment and whispered, "I know, truly, Molly, I do. Rest, now, I have her."

She hoped that she had smiled at him as she drifted off to sleep.


	15. First Night - Greg

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> with a bit of banter from the boys...

Greg hummed for Becca as he watched Molly fall asleep for the first time in what felt like weeks. Both of them had had precious little sleep over the last couple of days, between cases and what he now realised must have been early labour for her to deliver that quickly. He had an idea it was going to be years before any of them slept peacefully again, but for now, it didn't matter worth a damn. He'd had no idea how much it really meant to him to have a child, a child with Molly, until the nurse placed the still squawking newborn in his arms for the first time.

From her very first cry, he knew she was as fierce as her mum; and yet, as he touched her tiny fingers, he understood how fragile she was, how dependent she was going to be on them all. He could tell from Sherlock's first reaction to her that she was going to be one very loved little girl; Greg had never seen his friend's face so transparent before, a mix of awe, surprise, and pure love softened his normally sharp features before he excused himself from the room. He truly understood how much he owed his friend, though he would never be able to thank him enough, as he now knew that Sherlock simply saw Greg and Becca as part of his family, nothing less than that.

He finally sat down in a chair after putting Becca down in the bassinet and took out his phone.

 

Thank you - GL

How are the ladies? - SH

Asleep - GL

Good, how are you? - SH

Me? I'm fine - overwhelmed if I think too much - GL

Don't think too much, get a nap - SH

Will do - GL

Would you like us to pick you up, no sirens this time? - SH

That would be great thank you - GL

Just let us know when, you all did great, Papa Lestrade - SH

;) - GL

 

"Everything okay?" John mumbled from the couch.

"Yep, he's just thinking too much."

"Hmmm...don't know anyone else who does that. Now that you know everyone's tucked in, don't suppose you would join me in bed?"

"I suppose, if I must."

"Berk."

"Git."

"You were amazing today."

"No, they were, I just gave her a bit of a push, they did the rest."

"Still."

"I was just there, as she always has been for me."

"I know, we are all very lucky..."

"Sentiment, John?"

"Yes, love, must be, I suppose. That, or a lack of sleep?"

"All right, old man, bed."

"I'll show you old..."

"Is that a promise?"

"I love you."

Sherlock cleared his throat and looked into John's dark eyes. "I know, I love you, too, more than anything, John."

"I know."


	16. Becca - at Six Months

I heard a story once that we pick our parents, like while we are simply souls floating around, before we...ya know...anyway if that's true, I knew how to pick 'em, them and my uncles...I sure made out like a bandit. I could do without so much pink frilly stuff, but it makes Papa smile after a long day, so I just wink at Uncle Sherlock and he grins at me...he's going to be great fun when I get older and can play with all his cool stuff. My mum, she rocks, she's so bad arse, she's got three amazing dudes wrapped around her little finger. And I get to hang with her at the morgue sometimes, she's already back part time, she's just not cut out for being at home all the time, she needs to do her thing, which from what I can tell is a little on the gross side, but looks kinda interesting from what she lets me see. 

I've gone on a couple cases with Papa, he seems to be the one in charge, as long as Uncle Sherlock and Uncle John aren't around, then he kinda watches and mutters stuff and winks at me, like he knew all that stuff, he just wanted to let Uncle Sherlock show off a bit for Uncle John. I love just hanging out with Uncle John, he's different than the rest of them, not quite as intense, but sometimes I think he's the glue that keeps them all together. He's a bit soft and squishy and I love his reading voice, he loves reading me something about true love and pirates and the most beautiful girl in the world....and duels...have to remember to ask what duels are when I can finally talk...can't wait.

And oh...yeah, Gladys...my bestest buddy in the whole world, it took her awhile to adjust to me, but once she knew I was willing to share Uncle Sherlock and Uncle John with her, she relaxed a bit, and now she is the greatest nap buddy, she sleeps at Uncle Sherlock's feet and I sleep on his chest. From what I understand, he didn't used to get so many naps, but Uncle John says it's a good thing that he sleeps more...says we 'keep him on his toes'....

Speaking of naps, been a while since we had one, think it's time to "waaaaaaaaaaaa, agggggghhh, which roughly translates to heyyyyyyyyy, naptime!!"

(Just wait til I can really talk...they are going to be blown away.)


End file.
